Helga's Plan
by slashythetroll
Summary: Helga has the ultimate plan to gain Arnold's heart. Will it work? Or will it work too well? A tale of desire, romance, and drama. Please Read and Review!
1. The Plan

Hey Arnold! does not belong to me, although it should. This story is better than almost anything the writers developed and far better than nearly every story on this entire site. A true work of genius. It should be required reading for anyone attempting to write a fanfiction. Read and learn.

It took years of planning, daydreaming, and hoping. Ever since she was a little girl, Helga only wanted one thing, one person. She didn't desire paternal affection; she never wanted anything completely out of her grasp. She only wanted Arnold. In the past, she tried bullying him, being nice to him, ruining his dates, spying on him, and she even tried to tell him how she felt. None of it worked. But Helga finally found what she was looking for. A plan, one that would not fail. One that could not fail. A way to reach Arnold's heart, give her courage to express herself, and finally live the life she longed for. And there was only one way. She would grow a beard.

Her plan did not involve gypsy potions or therapy. She didn't need testosterone shots or to bully Phoebe. Helga only needed Bob's hair tonic. He used it to avoid a comb over. She saw it and knew it was the break she was waiting for.

On the night she slapped it onto her cheeks, she looked into the mirror and saw only her nine-year old face staring back. No beard, just a unibrow. She was nervous; maybe it wouldn't grow. Maybe beards needed love and attention to grow; she wasn't sure she could give any of those things to her upcoming beard. Or maybe she could. Either way, she had to be at school bright and early the next morning, and she knew it better be grown by then if this week's plan was to work. She looked in the mirror, but only saw her face, shiny and wet with tonic. She went to bed, dreaming of a beard. _It has to grow_, she thought.


	2. Beard

When Helga woke up, she could not feel a change. The birds were not chirping differently; the traffic outside was the same, and her mother was making a smoothie. Looking over to her closet, Helga saw the shrine she built to Arnold. Nothing new there.

Helga dragged herself out of bed and looked into the mirror. Her mouth dropped; her widened bulged in surprise. There, staring back at her, was the reflection of a blonde Gandalf. 

"Well, I guess the tonic worked," she said. 

But it more than worked. It really worked. Helga didn't just have any beard; she had a magnificent beard. Lumberjacks would be jealous. The most harry man on earth could not compete. Her beard was a gigantic Sycamore tree of hair, hanging and swaying in slow-motion from Helga's chin. It was more magnificent than she ever dared to expect. She ran her fingers through it again and again, admiring the course fibers and knots she undid with her fingers. Beards often hold the crumbs of snacks and past meals. Usually, men can eat these crumbs later in the day, when they become hungry. Helga's beard could hold entire meals, much more than a few mere crumbs. Who knew she possessed such skill at beard growing? Bob might be jealous and feel threatened as head of the household if he saw it. Helga decided to not show him her new growth. 

Then something strange happened. Unexpected. Helga heard a deep, rich noise, comparable to the most beautiful yet terrifying noises a young girl can hear. At first, it was barely audible, but then Helga understood it was a voice. "Helga…" It said. She heard it again. "Helga…" It was the beard. 

"Beard! You can talk?" said Helga. 

"Yes, Helga. It is I, Beard. All beards can talk, Helga. Why else would men grow them?" said Beard. 

"I guess that makes sense." 

"Only a real man can grow a beard, Helga. By the size of me, I'd say that you are more of a man than any before you, or yet to come." 

"Cool." 

School was not ordinary that day. How could it be? When Helga went into PS 118, all the children gathered around her to admire her facial hair. 

"Wow Helga," said Pheobe. "I didn't know you were so good at growing beards." 

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Phebes," Helga replied. Now, Helga was the most popular girl in the school. Everyone wanted to touch her beard. Some girls asked how they could grow beards like Helga's. Others were trying to take pieces and hairs from her beard, thinking a few strands might grant them the power to grow their own beard. 

"Did you use some dark magic to summon this beard?" one student asked. 

"Helga, can I name my future children after you?" asked another. 

"Helga, something looks different about you," another said. 

But Helga didn't pay attention to any of them. She heard Beard's dark voice resounding in her head with promises of glory. "With me, Helga, you will become the greatest king Hillwood has ever seen." Helga smiled and laughed manically. No one seemed to care because bearded fellows can laugh whenever they please. 

When Helga entered Mr. Simmon's classroom, the whole classroom erupted into an uproar. Stinky saw it and decided to become an artist; Harold lost weight, and Curly stopped being a freak. Everyone was inspired. Even Arnold. 

Arnold approached the bearded girl, looking down, rubbing the back of his neck. He was clearly nervous. Did he have something to tell Helga? "Wow, Helga. Your beard makes you look like Osama Bin Laden. I've never thought of you like this, but I now think I have feelings about-" He was cut off by Mr. Simmons. 

"Young lady," said the teacher. "I think you better show Principal Wartz what you brought to class with you. Your beard is very special and should be rewarded with honor and status." 

"Our hour has come," said Beard. 


	3. Principal's Office

Helga walked out of the door and down the hallway. She approached the principal's door. Taking a break to scratch her beard, she marveled at how curly it was. Like a plesent cloud, wafting off her face and onto the ground below, where it curled at her toes. Truly a magnificent creature. Helga grabbed the door and walked into Principal Wart's office.

Seeing Helga and her beard, Wartz rose from his chair in fear. His face was white, as if he had seen a ghost.

"Karl Marx," said the principal. "I thought you died!"

"I have returned," said Beard.

Fear filled Wart's entire body. He stood, petrified, stumbling for words in the presence of Helga's beard. It's glory was too great; he felt overwhelmed, inadequate. There was only enough room for one man in this school, and that man was Helga's beard. Wartz looked to his left, then his right. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Except the window.

"Accept the window," said Beard. Wartz looked to the hairy menace and obeyed. He ran, throwing himself out of the window, onto the street below, and kept running. He would find a new home. Eventually. Maybe even a new family and a name, where he could keep his shame and disgrace a secret for the rest of his days.

"Wow, Helga," said Mr. Simmons, walking through the door and into the office. "Now that Principal Wartz is gone, we're going to need a real man to lead this school. Would you be that real man for us, Helga?"

"Sure, so long as I can eat ribs," Helga said.

"Oh, you can have whatever you want from now on, Helga. You and your special beard are here to stay," said Simmons, slowly backing out of the office to find Helga's ribs. His life was changed forever.

Helga leaned back behind the desk, propping her beard up on the desk. She reached into a bowl of mints, fishing around for the one she wanted. Beard spoke to her. "Helga, now is the hour of our rule on the earth."

The phone rang. Helga reached and picked it off of the desk.

"Hello, Helga Pataki? This is the president of the United States, and I was wondering if you would run for office with me in the upcoming election."

"Aren't I a little young?"

"With a beard like that, no one would have the courage to tell you you're too young for anything. Now are you in or not?"

"Sure." She hung up, making a face as she thought about running for office. She shrugged it off and began eating her mint. There was a knock at the door.

"Come on in," she said in an exasperated voice. It was Arnold.

"Arnold!" she exclaimed in shock and confusion, leaning forward with both hands on the desk and her feet on the ground. Although Helga sat behind a desk and Arnold was in the doorway, Helga knew her beard could touch Arnold. "What are you doing here football-head?"

Arnold held out his hands. He held chocolate and roses.

"I brought these trophies as offerings. I hope they adequately express how I feel for you, and I hope you look upon them with favor."

"Foolish peasant," said Beard. "Take your mere sacrifices and leave my presence."

Arnold was brokenhearted as he left the office. So much defeat all in the course of a day. Staring at the ground, he absentmindedly threw the roses and chocolates into the garbage before dragging himself home.

"Beard!" exclaimed Helga. "Why did you do that? This whole thing was my plan to finally gain his affections!"

"You are royalty now, Helga. You can never live a normal life," said Beard.

"We'll see about that," Helga said.


	4. Sacrifice

That night, Helga returned to her bathroom and stared into the mirror. She applied the hair tonic only last night in this very room, and so much was already different. It had so much to offer: power, influence, friends, and money. But was it worth it? She wanted Arnold, not fame. Slowly, she pulled out her razor. 

"Helga, what are you doing?" asked Beard. He sounded desperate, shocked, and betrayed. 

Helga didn't acknowledge him. Instead, she remained silent as she took the razor to Beard, severing his hold on her face and her life. It was painful to watch such a magnificent creature struggle in its death, but it had to be done. Helga had no remorse. 

"Helga, please, no..." Beard begged. But Helga kept shaving. Shaving the past, her opportunities, dreams, everything. Except Arnold. 

"Helga, I love you," said Beard, finally expressing how he felt for the girl. He kept it bottled up for the entire day; now it was too late. 

"You've controlled my life for too long, Beard. I need to let you go. So much wanton destruction. It had to end somewhere. It ends here, now. I take control of my own life now, Beard. We're through." 

Helga shaved off the last of the beard. She was in a pile of hair that reached up to her waist. It was gone. Gone forever. 

Would Helga ever have Arnold's heart now? Or would she have to try again? The plan was good. Too good. Now she had to become an ordinary girl again. It was worth it. So worth it. At least, that's what she tried to believe. 

Helga's weakness overcame her. She dropped to her knees, thrusting her hands to her face, sobbing.

"Why, Beard? Why did you have to go?" She would cry herself to sleep that night and wake up without her beard.

Wow! What a story! Make sure to read and review!


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